


Pillow Talk

by Eisenschrott



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Fluff without Plot, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 20:36:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11608464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisenschrott/pseuds/Eisenschrott
Summary: Or: how Piett learned to cuddle his new boyfriend and be the big spoon.





	Pillow Talk

“How are you?”

“Hmm?”

“Firmus?”

Piett cracked one eye open. It was an effort. “I’m very well, luv.” But not so much an effort as talking, what with his throat being on fire after the full length of Veers’ blaster cannon had fucked it.

In that slanted and unfocused field of vision, Veers was half-sit on the bed, all nudity and concern. “I wasn’t too... much, you know, was I? Or too rough?”

The only proper answer was a huff, with the advantage of not requiring spoken words. Then Piett extended an arm and motioned Veers to burrow in. A puzzlingly innocent grin graced Veers' still flushed face, which he proceeded to nuzzle on Piett’s shoulder. Piett ran his hand down the big lad's left arm as it came to rest around his waist; hot skin a bit leathery with age, soft long hair, solid muscles, thin but palpable scars. When his touch feathered the wrist, Veers’ body tensed as if in a shiver and he purred into Piett’s ear. “I love you, Firmus.”

“So it would appear.”

“I was afraid you’d choke on me, you know? You... seemed like it hurt, at some point.”

Piett swallowed saliva to ease his raw throat. “You underestimate me and the many cocks I've eaten before yours, General.” As long as he kept his voice low, talking was fine. He'd take a sore throat medicine before going to the bridge at day cycle.

“But aren't you a little out of practice?”

This called for a louder rebuttal and Piett gathered breath, but Veers’ left hand started stroking circles on the small of his back, as deep and slow as a massage, and he had to shut his mouth lest he shamelessly, carelessly moaned how much he loved this and Veers. Sweet stars, he was pressing the old vibroblade cut on the left flank. Piett didn’t bother repressing a low humming noise through his closed mouth. Tired as he was, he felt warmth and a languid tension growing in his groin.

Veers kissed the apple of his neck, then a few centimetres above and below it. Trying to guess how deep his bell-end had reached. The kindness and the dirtiness of it gave Piett a rush of dizzying, smiling emotion. He stroked the back of Veers’ head, where the old dirt-pounder still had enviably long and plentiful hair, cool and humid with sweat.

“Wait a sec.” Veers slid his hand under Piett’s arse, his arm tensed like a tow cable, and shifted upwards the smaller man as easily as if he'd used the Force, while Veers himself came to lie flat on his back. Piett felt the inert warm bulge of Veers’ cock under his calf, and the hard angle of the hipbone locking on the crook of his knee like a matching gear.

“Touch me again, please. Be gentle,” Veers whispered with eyes half shut, a nearly two-metres long mass of war-tempered muscles and scars that somehow managed to be the very picture of vulnerability. For a moment Piett stared so raptly he didn’t notice the further swelling of his cock.

Since Veers had left his chest exposed, he stroked him there, sinking his fingers where the hair was thicker and greyer. Scratching with a hint of fingernails, going down the strip of hairy skin to the navel and up again. Nipples and scars. Down again. You could cut him open and tear his heart to bloody shreds and he wouldn’t mind, you just had to do it gently and lovingly. There was more than a pinch of disgust in the thought, and Piett did not want to deal with it now.

Veers’ breathing made a cavity of his abdomen; his eyes fell shut and that disarming smile fixed itself on his face.

Piett rested his chin on the top of Veers' head, where he didn’t have to see that love-smitten expression. He had never smelled clean seawater in his life, but he would have wagered it had the same smell as the one he inhaled with his face in Veers’ hair.

“Firmus...”

“Hmm?”

Veers left his name trail off into silence. In-between Veers' soft, deep breaths, the cabin was so quiet Piett could imagine to hear the thrum of the _Executor_ ’s engines lulling them both to sleep.


End file.
